sometimes my grand daughters
dress up as princesses and live
together in make-believe castle
(partitioned basement toy room)
wearing single toy crown, one of
them acts as the queen and she
invariably invites me to come for
a visit with royals at their palace
when addressing the queen, one
must be respectful but i get into
trouble by casually referring to her
little highness as “Queenie Poo”
they predictably haul me off
to the jailer’s dungeon where
they mercifully bring me books
and copious meals of fake food
eventually, i am released but
regretfully have not yet learned
my lesson and the story repeats
to the general delight of all parties
____________
I’ve written a few poems about my grandmothers (“I Remember Them”) and grandchildren but here’s a new story poem for dVerse.
a poem in my pocket 
You must be logged in to post a comment.